One lovely evening last summer I was enjoying a cocktail in my friend Joanie’s backyard. As we sat there sipping tequila and sodas in the gloaming, about a half dozen hummingbirds showed up to join the party.

We watched them for more than 30 minutes, sipping nectar from her feeders and then zipping over to her tangle of butterfly bush, where they’d hover over a flower and push their long beaks into one scarlet bloom after the other. It was mesmerizing: the calming buzz of their wings (which beat up to 5,400 times per minute), the precision of their beaks, the deftness of their flying, the way their feathers turn iridescent green when the light hits them a certain way.

Joanie, an artist and landscape designer, had intentionally created prime habitat for hummingbirds. And not just because they’re freakingĚýcool to watch. She did it because they, like bees, are pollinating superheroes. And pollinators, in case you didn’t know, are critical to both human survival and a healthy planet.

I was hooked and began wondering how to attract hummingbirds to my yard. After some research, I hatched a plan.

How Do Hummingbirds Help the World?

According to Pollinator Partnership, an astounding of food we eat can be traced to the work of pollinators like hummingbirds (along with other birds, bats, bees, butterflies, and beetles).

“Many plant species depend on hummingbirds as their main source of pollination,” says Anthony Colangelo from Pollinator Partnership, a nonprofit devoted to preserving and protecting the health of pollinators in North America.

Hummingbirds, Colangelo told me, are considered a keystone species. It means that their presence within an ecosystem has a disproportionate effect on other organisms within the system. How? “They are relentless workers and fast fliers, visiting 1,000 to 2,000 flowers in a single day, transferring pollen, from one plant to the next,” says Colangelo. “They provide an essential service in our food web and help maintain healthy levels of biodiversity.”

What Role Do Hummingbirds Play in Pollination?

In its simplest form, pollination is like sex for plants. It’s how they reproduce and form fruits and new flowers. Think of a pollen grain as a sperm. “When a pollen grain moves from the anther (male part) of a flower to the stigma (female part), pollination happens,” says Colangelo. “This is the first step in a process that produces seeds, fruits, and the next generation of plants, and it can happen through self-pollination, wind and water pollination, or through the work of hummingbirds and other pollinating animals that move pollen within the flower and from bloom to bloom.”

This summer, watching this in action has been one of my favorite pastimes. Here’s what it looks like: A bird appears, seemingly out of nowhere, and I hear that wonderful vibrating purr. It hovers at a flower and inserts its long beak into the bloom for a few seconds. “As it’s lapping up the nectar, pollen grains stick to its beak and facial feathers,” says Colangelo. “It’s kind of like the flower is rewarding the hummingbird for visiting it.”

Next, the bird flits to another bloom, inserts its pollen-dusted beak, where it touches and fertilizes that flower’s reproductive organs and also gathers more pollen on its face. Then off it goes to the next bloom, and the next, and the next.

In an ideal world, hummingbirds have an endless pathway of native flowers to visit. But sadly, they often don’t, which is where we come in.

What Happens If Hummingbirds Go Extinct?

If hummingbirds went extinct, . “90 percent of the world’s flowering plants and 87 of the top 128 global food crops need animal pollinators,” says Colangelo.

Of the 366 different hummingbird species (all of which live exclusively in the Western Hemisphere), “about 8 percent are endangered or critically endangered due to habitat loss and fragmentation, climate change, and invasive plants outcompeting natives in the landscape,” says Colangelo.

In the winter, like many living beings (including humans), hummingbirds migrate south to warmer weather. That’s why creating pollinator pathways—cohesive networks of pollinating flowers and habitat—is crucial.

“Hummingbirds live such energetic lives so they require lots of nectar (carbs) to fuel their daily flight,” says Colangelo. “Having lots of connected pathways reduces the amount of energy they have to spend finding food so they can expend that energy in other ways that keep their populations healthy, like finding mates, building nests, having and caring for babies, nest building, parental care.”

5 Ways to Attract Hummingbirds

Even though I’ve been an avid outdoorswoman my whole life, birding has never been something I’ve been that into. So it’s surprising and kind of ridiculous how hummingbirds now thrill me. In fact, of all the sustainability actions I’ve taken in my life, this one is perhaps the most gratifying. A year ago, I had no hummingbirds. Now they visit me every day, pollinating my little piece of the world. And all I had to do was roll out the welcome mat.

Here’s how you can do it, too.

1. Plant a few key plants

Hummingbirds are attracted to bright red, orange, and sometimes yellow flowers. They prefer those with tubular blooms, ones that accommodate their long beaks. I chose ruby red cardinal flowers (Lobelia cardinalis), which are native to my region. (Find your local native plantsĚýwith these .)ĚýJust three plants placed in the border of my vegetable garden did the trick. Almost every time I look at the beautiful red flowers, there’s at least one hummingbird nearby.

2. Hang a feeder or two

Feeders are a great way to attract hummingbirds to your space because they give you the opportunity to watch and fall in love with them. But don’t rely on feeders alone, cautions Colangelo. “Feeders are like Gatorade,” he says. “They provide the birds with a fast and easy hit of energy so they can keep working, but hummingbirds can’t pollinate from a feeder. For that they need the native flowers.”

You can buy hummingbird feeders like , which I like because it’s made of red glass rather than plastic, or make one yourself. I fashioned my own using a purchased , a recycled wine bottle, bits of wire, and some old red jewelry to attract the birds.

To fill the feeders, I make my own nectar by heating one part white sugar with four parts water until the sugar dissolves. Resist the urge to purchase hummingbird food tinted with red dye, which could harm the birds. And regularly: twice per week in hot weather and once per week in cooler temps.

3. Provide water for drinking and bathing

I made two water sources for my hummingbirds. The first is an ancient bird bath I scored off a Buy Nothing local Facebook group. It had cracks which I patched up with some quick-set concrete mix. The second is a lovely little fountain I made with an old garden pot, some river stones, and a purchased .

4. If you have an outdoor cat, put a bell on it

Cats are a big threat to hummingbirds and can snatch them right off of low-hanging feeders. Be sure to hang your feeders at least four feet off the ground, and consider putting a bell on your cat’s collar to warn the birds of their presence.

5. Support conservation organizations

Nonprofits like and Ěýwork to educate the public on the importance of pollinators as well as provide tools and resources for people who want to rewild their yards to welcome pollinators.

If it’s 5 o’clock, you can probably find Kristin Hostetter sitting in her pesticide-free backyard on Cape Cod with a cold drink and a bird book watching the hummingbirds. Follow her journey to live more sustainably by for her twice-monthly newsletter.

The post Here’s How (and Why) I Built A Simple Hummingbird Habitat appeared first on şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř Online.

I first heard of Ouray’s legendary Ice Park in 1998, as a student with the National Outdoor Leadership School (NOLS), traveling through Wyoming’s Wind River Mountains.

“They make ice routes that are like a hundred feet tall, all winter,” said my companion. “You just bring your gear, walk in, and climb.”

He had to be exaggerating. Giant pipes built with the sole intention of making frozen waterfalls? It sounded awesome but far-fetched. Maybe some leaky pipes making a few lumpy piles of ice. A hundred feet? Impossible!

A year later, when I moved to Colorado, Ouray was one of the first places I had to see. I found the town surrounded on three sides by steep mountain walls, an oasis of flat ground in a broad canyon of cliffs and crags. The streets are arranged in a neat, compact grid similar to that in many of Colorado’s late 19th-century boomtowns.

Buildings reflect the practical architecture of mining-town designs. Restaurants and lodges are often narrow, woody, weathered places that retain their utilitarian DNA. Local traffic is dominated by battle-scarred pickup trucks and scrappy second-hand sedans, with the occasional jacked-up Jeep in the mix. The contrast between stunning natural beauty and gritty development gives balance to the place, a kind of alpine Yin-Yang.

I arrived in December 1999, driving my 1980 Toyota Celica, a bald-tired, rear-wheel-drive tank of a car. My clunker didn’t seem out of place in Ouray, which was a sign I just might like the place.

I recall noticing the moody afternoon sunlight, alpenglow diluted by shadows, diffusing mountainous greens and gold into subtle pinks, yellows, and baby blues. Ouray is a small place (population 898 as of the 2020 Census), lacking the daredevil architecture of hyper-modern homes moored on rocky cliffs that is a hallmark of other haughtier mountain towns. The entire place was a five-minute drive-through. On the far south end was the mythical .

That first day, I got a sneak peek into the frozen canyon and my first look at the operation. And it was glorious, surpassing the vision I had conjured up. The ice walls really were 100 feet tall. The following day was my first time climbing in the park.

Belayers protect their climbing partners while standing on the floor of Box Cañon, where a defiant creek occasionally cracks through the frozen ground underfoot. Here was a place of translucent blue ice, shimmering silver snow, and deep winter shadows, all created by adventurous people for adventurous people. I was hooked for life.

Dozens of visits later, I still look forward to my annual January migration to kick my crampons in at the ice park. But it wasn’t just the access to ice that won me over.

Ouray has a charm that is different than other Colorado mountain towns. It’s a place that knows its audience, from offroaders to freedom-of-the-hills mountaineers. Locals are friendly but not cloyingly so. The town attracts an adventurous set of visitors—and many world-class athletes—but doesn’t brim with bravado. Jeepers, backcountry skiers, hikers, and climbers all claim Ouray as a special place for their respective passions, and they are all correct. Ouray welcomes ’em all.

Ouray, Spectacular in Any Season

How can you not love a town with a massive hot spring anchored smack dab in the middle?

Unlike many other mountain towns that thrive on tourism, Ouray hasn’t handed the reins to luxury developers. The town’s scrappy mining roots remain evident and authentic. Many of the homes and businesses in Ouray are well over a hundred years old. Most are modernized within reason, though still sporting old-growth wooden walls and early 19th-century flourishes along rooflines. The narrow layout of the roads hints at horses and wagons rather than SUV use.

Ouray is 7,800 feet above sea level at the base of the San Juan Mountains in south-central Colorado. Gold and silver mining put the place on the map in 1876. A railroad kept the pulse of Ouray beating into the 1930s. The town has evolved since then into one of the best basecamps for outdoor adventure in the Rocky Mountains.

Ouray was my base of operations for southwest Colorado in the summer of 2005 when I was writing my first mountain-hiking guidebook. I would scramble up many of the neighboring San Juan peaks, then return to campgrounds in the area. Mount Sneffels, a 14,154-foot summit in the wildflower-rich Yankee Boy Basin, was among the peaks I hiked—and it remains one of my ten favorite mountain hikes in Colorado.

The San Juan Mountains are greener than many of Colorado’s other ranges. Wildflowers creep higher above treeline, grass decorates areas that would otherwise be rocky and barren, and creeks aplenty flow through it all. Mount Sneffels not only gives an incredible bird’s-eye view of these valleys, but it’s a super fun scramble.

I’ve since gone on to hike more difficult summits in the area, including Potosi Peak (13,792 feet) and Teakettle Mountain (13,797 feet). The roads into Yankee Boy Basin (County Road 361 splitting to County Road 26, then Yankee Boy Basin Road) were massively improved in 2019 from dicey 4×4 trails to normal-clearance dirt roads to the lower Mount Sneffels Trailhead. This change means you can enter the lower basin with a normal passenger vehicle. Four-wheel drive vehicles with good clearance can climb a little higher into the basin. The higher you get, the more backcountry camping you find.

In the valley, is absolute bliss on sore post-hike muscles, worth the 30-minute drive down from camp. It’s open year-round and has five different pools, including a lap pool, with temperatures ranging from 80 to 106 degrees. And it doesn’t reek of sulfur, so you won’t come out smelling like rotten eggs.

I like to camp in the backcountry in the autumn but have a soft spot for the affordable, pet-friendly cabins at the on the north side of town. These cabins are also perfect for quaint winter lodging when visiting the ice park. The is another favorite; it is more centrally located and also pet-friendly and within walking distance of the ice park.

I have many fond memories of having my dogs—past and present—in Ouray. Fellin Park is a nice, open plot for pups and conveniently located right next to Ouray Hot Springs Pool. You can get in a good local walk on the Perimeter Trail, a well-maintained hiking loop that circles 5.4 miles around Ouray. The trail has a few steep climbs and rolls through forests with excellent town views. I’ve had many a good snowshoe in the winter with my dogs in the Amphitheater Campground area, mainly on the closed access roads.

is one of the coolest outdoor shops in Colorado. They have local expertise in hiking, climbing, skiing, the , and rental equipment for the ice park. And if you’re up for going big in the mountains with a guide—or just want an expert to show you the ropes for ice climbing— are excellent. offers a different kind of outing with their offroading vehicles, from Jeeps to e-bikes. The old mining roads make excellent 4×4 tours, from Imogene Pass to the notorious .

Back to the Ouray Ice Park

I’ve spent many fine days with friends in the ice park, including during the , usually held in mid-January. The ice park opened in 1994. The legendary alpinist Jeff Lowe ran the first Ice Fest here in 1996, drawing a modest crowd of a few hundred people. Nearly 30 years later, the festival brings in thousands each year, and the park is still free and open from mid-December until the end of March, give or take a week, thanks to Mother Nature’s whims.

Even if you’re going for a one-time visit, it’s worth chipping in and becoming an for the season (costs start at $75). Membership gets you early access to the park and helps fund the volunteer-driven costs of maintaining the place.

There may be no finer winter itinerary than spending a long weekend (or better yet, some mid-week days) with friends and dogs in Ouray. Wake up, walk the pups, then get in a few hours at the ice park. Sneak out for lunch, then grab a second climbing session or a snowshoe until the early winter sunset. Grab a bite at one of the local restaurants, then go for a deep soak in the hot springs. Repeat for a few days, then head home.

While you’re around, it’s worth a quick detour to , a waterfall tucked into a tight, narrow gorge that is worth the modest $7 ($5 for kids) per person entry fee to check out. It’s open year-round and is especially scenic on a cold winter day. Use great caution on the icy 500-foot walkway to get there.

şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍřs In and Beyond Ouray

If you like mining history, the region is littered with it. The are worth a visit to learn more about the mining roots and general history of the area.

Rolling south out of Ouray on Highway 550 is an adventure in itself. The Million Dollar Highway is a paved stretch of road with some gutsy exposure high above the valley, though don’t let modified fish-eye lens pictures intimidate you. You will absolutely want snow tires and AWD/4WD in the winter on this road. It eventually connects to another, even more remote Colorado mountain town, Silverton.

About 35 minutes out of Ouray, the roadway accesses South Mineral Campground and one of Colorado’s most famous alpine lakes, the fluorescent-blue Ice Lake. Ice Lake Basin is the gateway to two of my favorite mountain scrambles, the 13,786-foot Golden Horn and 13,907-foot Vermillion Peak.

Farther up 550 is Engineer Pass, with the two Engineer Mountains, Engineer Mountain A (13,225 feet) and Engineer Mountain B (12,980 feet). Despite the taller elevation, Engineer Mountain A is the easier hike, with a moderate trail and Class 1 to 2 scrambles to the summit. The smaller Engineer Mountain B has burly Class 4 climbing and cuts a much more impressive profile from Highway 550.

With all the mountain goodness, it’s easy to forget thatĚýRidgway Reservoir is only about 20 minutes north of Ouray. It’s a great summer destination for boaters, paddleboarders, and mountain folk starved for a recreational lake.

The Switzerland of America

Ouray has been nicknamedĚý “the Switzerland of America,” though I’ve never actually been to Switzerland to verify that claim. I imagine Switzerland has far fewer jacked-up Jeeps and dudes playing banjos near the public bathrooms, but feel free to prove me wrong.

What Ouray does have is gorgeous mountain scenery, an abundance of backcountry adventure, and at least a few St. Bernard dogs. I’ll always find my way back there.

About James Dziezynski

James Dziezynski is the SEO director at şÚÁĎłÔąĎÍř and the author of six Colorado mountain-hiking guidebooks, including 2023’s . A resident of Boulder, he has been visiting Ouray since the 1990s. He has a PR of 3 minutes and 18 seconds in the 106-degree Overlook pool at the Ouray Hot Springs.

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